


Beauty

by burningcold27



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Blood, Body Modification, F/M, Underage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:39:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28646919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burningcold27/pseuds/burningcold27
Summary: Maul has grown “accustomed” to Nadari, or so he says. The feeling may finally be mutual, so she agrees to be beautified in the Dathomirian traditional way.One shot set in the timeline of “Captive.”
Relationships: Darth Maul/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 5





	Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> This is a tidbit from another doc I’m working on, “Captive.” If tou care to know their less than stellar beginning, give the two chapters that are up a read.

“Every next level of your life will require a different version of yourself.”

Nadari repeated this mantra repeatedly, letting it bounce and echo down the hallways of her mind. Would she be willing to give up, willingly give up, her chance to return to her family? Would she actually and actively watch her life, as she knew it turn to dust in her hands? Would she-

Yes.

The word tumbled out of her mouth before the thought could even finish itself, willed itself to leap off her tongue. Her eyes, glimmering purple and almost too big for her childlike face, searched his own. She had hated him, cursed his existence for the first half year of her captivity. She had tried to escape and bore the consequences of her actions so stoically that even her captor had told her that he was impressed. And with this came the turning point. Nadari could recall, almost to the parsec, when he has begun to soften towards her. Less intimidation, less silence.

I’ve grown somewhat accustomed to you.

For all the truths in existence, she had as well. With this, she knew the meaning in between the words he would probably never speak. Nadari knew he had begun to rather enjoy her company, even if it was of little actual service to him in any way. She was more along the lines of a pretty toy, a decoration. And this was OK with her.

`````````````````````````

Floating through the darkness of hyperspace, she stared out of the ship’s window. Dots of light gleamed and winked at her from far away; she briefly wondered what systems they were, where was she again? Often times she was never told where they were travelling to until they’ve arrived. She curled her legs up into the seat and put her knees under her chin, wrapping her arms around her legs. She would never get used to the chill of deep space.

She recognized what was by now a familiar sound. The harsh grating of a file against horn. Maul was sharpening them, as he did whenever he saw fit.

Quickly she hopped down from the seat and walked softly down the main corridor of the ship towards his quarters, and stepped inside. She knew he could sense her before she even put a foot inside yet he did not give any attention to her presence. His back remained turned towards her, file in hand, scraping away the old keratin with quick, short motions.

Coming closer, she laid a hand to rest on the back of his neck, trailing it across his shoulder. The sound of the file was no more; Nadari stepped beside him and simply laid out the same hand as he placed the file in it. She came to sit cross legged in front of him, their knees touching as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear that was almost as black as his robes.

She gave a slight smile and dropped her head. His gaze still made her feel….not unsettled….what was it? Something she couldn’t put her finger on. Maul closed his eyes and dipped his head slowly forward, and she watched him, file in hand until she finally reached up and rested the fingertips of her free hand on his frontal horn. Her eyes trailed downward to his hands resting folded in his lap; his fingers ended in sharp claws and she absentmindedly wondered if he filed those as well.

“How old are you?” She finally asked in a quiet voice, not knowing how to begin an actual conversation with him. Until now, it had been brief exchanges only, and before that, mostly threats or silence. Then she brought the file down across the horn with a fast, short motion, again and again, just as she had seen him do time and time before.

`````````````````````````

Maul did not know how old he was. He told her this in a matter of fact way and watched how her eye widened. He knew it was an impossible thing for her to comprehend, that another sentient being may not know their age, but to him is was unimportant. He asked the same question of her, realizing that he had never actually asked her anything to date. Always statement and commands. He felt the small tug on his horns as she held on and turned his head a bit to work on the one beside it. Maul found the girl beautiful, in a delicate, haunting way. She had no womanly curves, no impressive angles to her face, yet her eyes, those bright purple mixed with blue eyes, set into her rounded face held him captive as much as he literally held her.

“Fifteen.”

Maul didn’t know his age, but he did know for certain that he was not a teenager and had not been for quite a few years. She was a child.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said as she traced a finger over the sharpened end of another horn, testing it, “I’m not a child.”

But was she a child? Maul judged individuals by their maturity; it did not always match chronological age. He sat in silence as she worked on the horn sitting above his ear. No, she was no child. Yet not an adult either….perhaps barely at best. His thoughts were broken by Nadari’s voice once more.

“Do you file them, too?”

She pointed the file in her hand towards his own, and he flexed his fingers while looking down at them.

“No, I do not.”

“Maybe I should file mine, what do you think?” The girl asked in a lighthearted tone, holding her free hand now over his and in his line of sight. She had long fingernails, longer than his own short claws that came to rounded edges. He wanted to tell her that he would find her more beautiful if she did. He wanted to tell her that he had the desire to mark her skin with black lines and place silver in her ears. Would she even accept this? He doubted it.

“How long have you had this?” Nadari tapped the file ever so softly on the earring anchored in the shell of his left ear. Maul smiled.

“Since I was your age,” adding on, “roughly.”

Maul listened as she mentioned that her mother refused her to pierce her ears. She worked on the horns at the back of his head now; she learned quickly, he noted. He found her touch to be a wonderful thing, light like a feather but also just enough pressure mixed in with her gentleness. Without warning, he began to purr. She didn’t stop working as Maul imagined what Nadari would look like with her ears heavy with silver, her face and eyes lined with soft black, her nails filed into tiny points.

“Would you like one yourself?”

“Yes.”

```````````````````````````````

She now sat before him, on her knees and hands resting on her thighs with closed eyes, waves of nervousness washing over her. She remembered how he caught her hand in his when the tip of a horn snagged her skin, causing a drop of blood to well upon her fingertip. Remembered how he told her that he was simply enchanted by her as he kissed her fingertips. Remembered how he asked if she would give herself to him, truly become his. She thought of this earlier as she drug the same file across her fingernails, bringing them to C-shaped, stiletto curves and painting them a midnight black.

She remembered how he had told her that this was a sacred thing.

Her eyes snapped open as she felt his claws brush her left ear, then her right. He settled in front of her in a matching position.

“Which one?” She quizzed him.

“Both,” he replied as he brushed her long hair behind her shoulders, “the pain will be minimal, do not worry.”

She wasn’t worried about this pain, and as she felt his fingers grasp her ear she sucked in a breath, holding it.

“You cannot do that, it makes it much worse than it has to be, my dear.” Maul told her in an even tone. Just as Nadari began to exhale he drove the needle swiftly through the cartilage of her upper ear. She heard it crunch and felt the dull ache already begin beside her hear as he followed through with a silver hoop, fastening it closed. He grasped her chin and turned her head, wordlessly repeating the same action on her other ear which seemed to hurt much more than the first one. Both ears now felt hot, and she could feel her pulse in them. She reached behind her and knotted her hair, gathering it from around her face. Then her eyes came to rest on the glinting razor blade Maul held in his hand, gaze going to the small pot of ink beside his knee. Her stomach knotted, and he sensed her fear.

“Do not be afraid. The worst part is over in a mere parsec or two.” He told her as he held her face in his hand, resting his forehead against her own for a moment. He inhaled deeply; all Zeltron smelled floral. He thought Nadari smelled like Coruscanti jasmine. When he pulled away, he held her chin between his two fingers and brought the razor blade close to her skin. Maul had told her that he would put three equal lines going from the center of her lower lip down to her chin. The Mother, The Daughter, and the Crone. He told her about Dathomir and the Nightsisters, and of the Nightbrothers, told her that she would be of him now and never anyone else. She closed her eyes and breathed, waiting for the blade to carve into her flesh.

When it did, it was a burning slice, slow and steady, followed by one a few centimeters to the right, and again on the left. Nadari felt warm blood begin to trickle down her chin and brought her hand under it to catch the droplets. Maul held a cloth against the fresh cuts as tears pricked in her eyes. This hurt.

“It will do not good to press the ink into a bleeding wound,” he explained to her, “and it will do no good to cry, either. The worst is over.”

She knodded her head against his hand and screwed her eyes shut. Her entire face ached now, and it was spreading to her head thanks to her injured ears. When he removed the cloth from her face at last, red with her blood, she winced. The cabin’s cold air stung the open marks and with this, he knew applying the ink would hurt, too.

And hurt, it did. Maul dipped his index finger in the inky blackness and quickly rubbed it over the wounds, pressing ink deep into them. He did this once, twice, three times until tears dripped down the girl’s face and her once blushing pink skin was an angry red. It pained him to see her tears now, tears that he had ignored so many times in the past. Yet this was their way, pain and blood, he thought to himself as he began to recite in Dathomirian. Words of his people, of love that she would not understand, words that would bind them.

He used the other side of the cloth to wipe away the excess ink, revealing three swollen, vertical black lines down her chin. Perfect, Maul thought to himself. His golden gaze drifted to her ears, now a vibrant red due to the previous assault on them, adorned with silver. 

Mine.


End file.
